


Crossing Sides

by nycgrl, simonisbetter



Category: Historical - Fandom, Historical AU - Fandom, Historical RPF, Original Work, The Patriot (2000)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Civil War, Civil War AU, Death, Edward it's Monday and you can't sit with us, F/M, Formerly known as, Frankly my dear I don't give a damn, Historical, Historical References, Mentions of Colonel Tavington, Mentions of the Patriot, Nobody cares what you think Jonathan, North, Nothern States, On the Other Side Of A BLOODY WAR, Rebels, Rebs - Freeform, References to Revolutionary War, Romance, She slapped him and he fell in love, South, Southern States, The Angst That Happens, The Civil War, Union, War, When Falling In Love With Someone, William is the real star, Yankees, Yanks, bully for you, confederates, my one true love WAR, nobody asked you Edward, she was hot and she was dressed as a nurse, thats a load of bull Josie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:18:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nycgrl/pseuds/nycgrl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonisbetter/pseuds/simonisbetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Follow thy drum;</p><p>With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules;</p><p>Religious canons, civil laws are cruel;</p><p>Then what should war be?</p><p>//Timon of Athens, Act IV, Scene 3, Line 58//</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 22 May 1860

_Prequel_

_22 May, 1860, St. Marks Place, New York_

 

The quiet patter of rain increased to a violent downpour that began swamping the now muddy East Side streets. The drops struck the already wet sidewalk, pitting the surface like they were shell casings from above. 

There was no harm in it, St. Marks Place would be just the same after the storm had passed. 

The street was empty save for the hired buggy that would take the Edwards to Calvary Church. The poor drenched driver sat huddled on the seat, enduring the May deluge. Josephine let go of the curtain she held to the side of the front door window, and wiped her nose with her handkerchief. 

“This awful storm is getting worse by the minute. You’ll be swept away if you don’t beat the flooding.” Jo cautioned her mother, who stood tying her flowered bonnet in front of the hall vanity. 

Josephine wiped her nose again. Blast this dreaded cold! 

“Ninian! Dearest, we’ll be late!” Her mother called up the stairs to her husband. 

Elizabeth Edwards was a picture of serene beauty, as Jo’s father often called her. Her ensemble was the color of the season, a dusty blue. Her jet-black hair emphasized her porcelain white skin and green eyes. Josephine had always been grateful to inherit her mother’s features, her father was two inches shorter and possessed only two facial expressions; confusion or contemplation. 

Ninian Edwards came down the stairs with a hop on the last step and kissed his daughter on the cheek. 

“Goodnight dear girl, sleep well! We will give your love to George and Mary.” 

He pulled his oiled overcoat on and helped his wife on with hers. Josephine sniffed, hugging her body, thinking of how cold and wet the buggy driver must be. 

“Father, don’t dally so much. Poor Mr. Franks is soaked through by now!” 

She shared a knowing smile with her mother, her father was hopelessly devoted to preventing the inconvenience of everyone around him. As if on cue, her father swung open the front door and opened a large black umbrella. Elizabeth stopped at the threshold and turned back to her daughter. Hurriedly, she kissed Josephine’s cheek and gave her hand a squeeze. 

Then they were gone, out into the torrents of rain. Their covered buggy pulled away. 

Josephine stood in the foyer for a moment and looked at herself in the vanity mirror. The clock that hung on the wall chimed, half past six. Sue, the family cook, would be preparing Josephine’s soup and cold remedy. Deciding she had time to wash her face before supper, Jo began ascending the stairs to the second floor. 

A prickling feeling went up her spine and into her neck, causing her to stop stock still on the step. She looked at her arm, finding goosebumps had formed on her pale skin. 

Turning towards the door, she heard a new sound join the pounding rain, splashes and the muffled sound of men yelling. 

Grabbing hold of her skirts, Josephine rushed to the front door and yanked the curtain aside. The street was now flooded, with roaring water and frantic people, all rushing in the same direction. Josephine threw open the door and was hit by the slanting tempest. _No,_ she pleaded in her head. 

Her feet moved faster than her quickly soaked dress would let her move. Through the pouring rain she could make out dark shapes at the end of the lane. Men and women were running just ahead of her, and more were behind her. Josephine quickened her pace, and with each step the hem of her dress became muddier. The rain hit her skin like it would go right through, and her feet were numb from wetness and cold. 

Beneath the sound of the commotion, Josephine could only hear a pulsing in her ears. She was so completely wet and numb that did she didn't feel the wind that blew so hard. The dark shapes began to take form as she neared a manic scene. 

The rushing water on the street had turned dark red, blood and dirt mixing together. Before her was Hell, horses lay in a tangled heap at the crossroad. Two breathed heavily and neighed in outcries of pain, another already dead and no longer suffering. 

Closest to her sat a buggy nearly untouched, its passengers sitting in utter shock. The rushing water pushed Jo forward and she began to feel a burning in her lungs, grabbing onto the frame of the intact buggy. 

There in the middle of the crossroads was a chaotic, crumpled mess of the other two carriages. One sat on top of the other and crushed the driver's seat and hood. It was as though it were nothing more than a discarded tin can, bent in on itself. 

There was a flutter of bloodstained dusty blue, wedged between the undercarriage and the front wheel. 

A tunnel vision took over Josephine’s senses and she splashed through the water towards the crushed carriage. She drew near enough to make out a tattered and bent umbrella caught in the rear wheel.

Josephine let out a gut wrenching cry and dropped to her knees as the force of the water became too great. The heap of bent metal shifted as the rushing flood increased. 

An arm caught at her as she tried to pry the carriages apart to no avail. She felt ripping fabric and realized she was clutching into the blood soaked blue that had been stuck in the undercarriage. Another arm pulled her back on her left side and she was being dragged away from the wreckage. She was crying and could barely see through the rain and salty tears. 

"My parents- please!" She wailed. 

 

"Those are- those are my parents."

 

St. Marks would not be the same, altered forever in the minds of those who would continue their lives on the quiet lane.

A memory of the anguish Josephine Edwards endured that spring day would linger for the rest of her life.


	2. 29 May 1860

_29 May, 1860, Marks Place, NY_

 

"Grief is the price we pay for love."  
-Queen Elizabeth II

 

Josephine watched a trickle of water slide down the window, and the heat of her breath caused the glass to fog. She was not numb as she hoped she would be. The feeling of a giant gap in her heart was so real and made everything ache.

Grief gave a heavy feeling the weight of the world was resting on her shoulders and there was nothing Jo could do to get out from under it.

Family members, friends of her parents, and people whom she didn't even know had come to pay their respects. The house felt so congested.

A shuffle of boots could be heard coming up the stairs and her uncle entered her chilly room.

"Oh, my dear girl." He sighed and sat down across from her on the window seat, "What horrors you've seen."

Josephine laid her head on his chest and he enveloped her in his arms. His familiar smell of pine brought comfort and she breathed in deeply.

"I wish- I just wish," a fresh bout of tears came and she sobbed into his coat, "What did they do to deserve God's wrath?"

"He didn't smite them, Josie."

Abraham lifted her chin and his face had a calm firmness to it,

"Do not turn from God, child. You will not get far on your own before you are forced to run back to him."

All she could do was nod. How angry she was at God, it made her feel so discouraged.

Josephine could not stop herself as more tears streamed down her face and she sobbed with a force that shook her body. They sat there, the two of them, for several moments.

Her uncle rocked her in his arms,  
"Borrow some of my strength, though we know there isn't much left in these rickety bones."

"Then I'll take some from your heart." She wiped her face and sniffled, "We know you won't be lacking there."

Abraham's chest rumbled a bit as he chuckled and kissed Josephine's forehead.

He stood and offered the crook of his elbow, which she took. As they left her cold room, Josephine looked back at the window. It was still wet outside and showed no sign or promise of sunshine.

————————————

"They say that even if the horses had been able to stop, the collision would still have been fatal..."

 

"The agony Eliza must have felt in her last moments- It's too much to imagine!"

 

"Charles Witney said he had to drag the poor girl away from the wreckage-"

 

It was a special kind of torture to have to listen to people she hardly knew discuss the nature of the accident. It was her parents death's they spoke of, not the latest royal scandal Queen Victoria and her parliament had committed.

All around Josephine were sympathetic souls who would likely pounce on her with crisp handkerchiefs if she should shed tears. How lucky she was, truly.

From where she stood in the sitting room, Jo had a partial view of those coming and going. How strange to see so many people she had never met though clearly her parents had known well.

A familiar couple walked in, both with blonde hair and with an air of assurance in their presence. Josephine recognized them immediately.

Congressman Rae and his wife were greeted by Aunt Mary and Uncle and Jo watched eagerly for a familiar tall figure to join them.

There—not her uncle who so often towered over everyone—but him. Edward Rae's blonde head appeared behind his parents and Josephine's eyes welled up with tears. What a welcome sight he was.

He shook Uncle's hand and they spoke for a moment. Edward began looking over the many faces before finding hers and gave the slightest smile. Oh, what a wonderful sight he was.


	3. 18 May 1861

_18 May, 1861, Borough House Plantation, Stateborough, South Carolina_

 

"Harry.."

The young man raised his head slightly, staring at the girl behind him through the reflection of the mirror, a faint smile twisting his pale lips.

"Please don't go."

"I have to. You know that."

"No, I don't know that! We have a plantation now. Stay here and run the grounds. What am I supposed to do without you?"

"You'll be the Lady of the plantation. Run it in my absence."

"Harry, you could die."

"Such is the risk of war, 'phelia. We do our duty, and innocents will die with the rest of us."

"Harry.."

He wrapped her in his arms when he saw her tears.

"It'll be alright, I promise." He murmured against her hair. "Lane is going to look after you for me. Make sure you've everything you need and that there aren't any problems."

"But--"

"Ophelia, everything is going to be fine."

 

It was a heartbroken girl that had to tear herself from her brother’s arms, left watching from the terrace as he rode away, dressed in his starched new uniform. Off to war.

Gritting her teeth to keep from crying for the third time that day, she watched until he’d disappeared from sight down the road, and retreated to the house. How empty it was, now that Harry was gone. Her footsteps echoed loudly through the halls, breaking the oppressive silence.

There was a crinkle of paper and she realised with a start that she was still holding Josephine’s letter in her fist, and she carefully smoothed it out, rereading the details of the ball for the umpteenth time.

How slowly time had seemed to pass. Lane would come in mere hours, to be her escort as they travelled north to attend a ball in Josephine’s honour, for her reentry into society, in Washington DC.

Her boots clacked loudly against the stone of the staircase as she hurried to her rooms, calling for the maid. She’d have to hurry if they were to leave on time.

 

In less time than she’d expected she was ready, her dark blonde hair done up neatly, and her frame swathed in a rather plain cranberry red gown. This was one ball in which she wished to blend in as much as possible. It wouldn’t do well to have a Confederate amongst the northerners, even if she was the best friend of the guest of honour.

Just because she was born a Yankee, didn't mean she was one politically. The southerners would very quickly learn where her loyalties lay. Uncle Robert would certainly help with that, in any case.

She missed Josephine. Harry was gone, and she was alone, ready to push herself into Confederate society, and she wanted her best friend at her side.

Not that it was possible, anyway. Josephine was a Yankee, born and bred, and to top all, the niece of President Lincoln. She'd see her soon enough, but it was only for a night. Then they’d go back to their separate lives and she’d see her but rarely.

Life had changed now, and Ophelia wasn't entirely sure it was for the better. A knock at the door brought the maid, who informed her Lane had arrived.

 

Tonight would not be one easily forgotten.


	4. 21 May 1861

_21 May 1861, Washington, DC_

 

Josephine clutched tightly to her handbag. It had been another poignant visit to the cemetery. A year without her beloved parents had changed Jo into everything she once loathed; entitled, snobbish, and utterly misunderstood.

Today was not unlike the many other days she went to replace the flowers at their headstones. A year did not make a difference when it came to grieving. Grief has no sense of time and it continues to make its home in your heart, eventually becoming a dull ache.

The blue of Josephine's dress matched that of the cloudless sky, the jacket was embroidered with flowers like the ones her mother kept in the parlour during springtime. Time escaped her when she thought over her life and her parents, and Jo began walking a bit faster down the lane.

The Rae mansion loomed on her left, and Josephine remembered their son would be home from school now.

Speak of the devil.. A familiar figure stood with another man at the gate. Josephine walked faster to skirt around them and hoped they would not pay attention. Wishful thinking.

Edward Rae bid goodbye to his companion and jogged to catch up to Josephine.

"Josephine Edwards, you would hurry past without even saying hello?"

Jo did her best to hold in a sigh.

"Why, Edward Rae, how rude of me! Hello. And now goodbye."

She turned to continue walking but he put a hand on her forearm to stop her.

"Really, Jo, I haven't seen you in a year. Let us at least be civil."

He called her Jo. She had not heard him call her by her nickname in such a long time, it sounded strange now that his voice was considerably deeper.

"I am being civil. But I will also be late."

"Oh yes, the ball. You must be happy to step out again, what with so limited fashionable mourning clothes."

Josephine mocked a gasp.

"You think me so vain? You would be right, I cannot help but become giddy at the sight of the gown I'm wearing this evening. Navy blue."

Edward raised his eyebrows at her emphasis of the color, he should not be surprised that the niece of the Yank president would wear such an obvious Union color. Edward changed the subject and tried to hurry away before Josephine could make up her mind. It was more of a declaration than a question.

"Save the last waltz for me?"

"I will not."

The disappointment was clear on his face and he stopped in his tracks.

"Why on earth not?"

"I will not save any dances. I can't show favoritism to any one man."

"That's ridiculous, Josie."

Her legs were considerably shorter but she did not pick up her pace to catch up to him, leaving him waiting.

"Call it what you like, Edward Rae, but I am the most eligible lady for miles and I must keep my reputation. And besides, it would not be proper, we aren't even a couple."

Edward looked like he was processing this and then opened his mouth as though he meant to say precisely what he thought. He changed his mind and began walking again, shoving his hands in his pockets. Josephine sighed and gave in.

"Cat got your tongue?"

He looked down at her.

"I thought you would be happier to see me, I suppose."

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Well you were when I saw you last year..."

"Don't be silly, Edward. It was my parents’ funeral. I had to put on a face of bravery or I surely would have been a blubbering mess!"

Edward's face fell flat, "That's a load of bull, Josie."

Josephine quickened her pace again and left Edward standing in amusement on the street corner.


End file.
